


song of unrest

by ohjustpeachy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Insecure Steve Rogers, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.





	song of unrest

**Author's Note:**

> For the hurt/comfort bingo square "body insecurity" and the happy steve bingo square "worthy."  
Thanks to betheflame for the beta!! <3

“D’you wanna come up?” Tony mumbles into the crook of Steve’s neck when they get back from dinner. It’d been lovely; murmured conversations over a bottle of wine, lazy kisses exchanged between bites of dessert, and the overwhelming feeling of wanting the night to last and last. _ Five more minutes _echoing in Steve’s head as soon as their evening started to wind down.

Until they got to this point, and every time, Steve would freeze, his next move to pull away and make a quick apology. 

Because Steve was an expert at saying no, at ducking out just after a long, heated kiss and a lingering glance. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Tony enough to spend the night. No, it was that he _ loved _ Tony, had since the month they met, despite their somewhat rocky start. How he felt about Tony was like nothing he’d felt before, and he wasn’t sure what that meant, not yet, not here. 

“I’m kinda beat,” he says now, squeezing Tony tightly. He’s just the right amount of affectionate. He wants more, but he’s not sure he can have more. “Think I might just go up by myself,” Steve says, and he’s genuinely regretful, especially at the wounded look Tony gives him. 

“You know we, uh… don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?” Tony says, his eyes burning serious in the gleaming streetlights. “I’m not inviting you up to have my wicked way with you,” he says. “Not that I wouldn’t also _ want _ that. I just mean—” Tony pauses, fumbling for words in a way he never has to, and Steve’s chest fills with guilt. He’s turning Tony in knots. “You can come up and... eat pie. Or watch _ Friends_, or… we can do whatever you want,” Tony promises him. 

Steve swallows hard, nodding a few times. “I know,” Steve says in a rush. “I really am just tired though. I promise. Next time though…” Steve trails off, hoping he’s doing an okay job of being convincing enough that Tony comes back for a next time. 

“Sure, Cap,” Tony says, trying for his best genius-billionaire smile and faltering halfway. He’s let him down; Steve’s stomach turns nervously. 

“_Steve_,” Tony corrects immediately, catching himself before Steve has to say a word. He’d absurdly pleased at this. So much so that he almost reconsiders his decision not to join Tony upstairs.

“I had a great time, Tony,” Steve says, meaning it. “Have a good night.” He brushes a kiss to Tony’s cheek, then cups his jaw carefully and draws him in for another long, slow kiss goodnight. 

Tony gives him a long look, but nods, looking at him for another minute before smiling sadly and turning toward the elevator, where he rides upstairs alone.

_ Next time. _Steve just needed more time.

Steve can almost pinpoint the moment that people started looking at him like he was only as good as his body, like he was a piece of meat up for purchase. Sure, when he was Captain America in the ‘40s, he was a show boy, paraded around like a monkey and made to feel like a spectacle. But that was then. When he woke up, he was sure he’d get a second chance to prove that he was worth more than that, more than this body they’d made him into. 

He’d gone into Erskine’s machine a soldier, someone who just wanted to do what was best for his country. Steve had wanted to serve, to do the right thing, and if he came out healthier, stronger at the end of it, that was a bonus. But that wasn’t why he did it. It wasn’t like he hated his old body, despite what people probably thought. He’d grown up sick and weak, and aching to be something _ more_, but he’d never hated himself. He was mentally strong, he was brave, and he just wanted to do what was right. Those things made him a good person. Steve knew this because his ma had spent her whole life reminding him of it, and you don’t forget something like that, no matter how long you spend under the ice. 

So when Steve started going out in public in this new century he lived in, he was kind of… surprised to find that people wanted to take his picture. They wanted to be in the photo, or they wanted him to lean in and take a picture with a stranger, their heads smushed together at unnatural angles. He liked it, at first. Because this was something he knew he could do; smile for the camera, make people happy just by being there. 

It wasn’t until Steve saw his first internet headline, a photo of him helping clean up a crime scene that read _ Captain Handsome Lends a Hand,_ that he realized. He was a celebrity in his own right. Not quite like Tony, but something different, something _ other_. Tony was known for his reputation and his tech and his generosity; how he looked was almost besides the point. Steve was known for his brawn and his blue eyes. 

He didn’t know how he felt about it then and he still doesn’t.

Tony had taken to calling him Captain Handsome after that, and it made Steve freeze, thinking back to all the dames who’d called Bucky handsome while Steve stood back, alone and shivering with the popcorn he couldn’t really afford, hoping someone would see him, look his way. 

No one ever did. 

But now, here Steve is, seventy years in the future with a body he still isn’t used to, and he’s turning heads. _ Everyone _ is looking his way, but he still felt the same. He was over a hundred pounds heavier, healthier than he’d ever been, and well-dressed thanks to the Avengers PR team, but he still felt like that kid from Brooklyn, with his too-short pants and too-big shirt and the heart that beat a little too hard to go to war. These people wouldn’t have wanted that Steve Rogers; how does he know Tony would have, either?

How was he supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to _ know. _

So, when Tony asked him to dinner for the first time, after weeks of flirting and calling him names that made Steve blush, he’d finally given it. _ Just to see_, he told himself. Just to find out what a real date with someone who really wanted to be there with him would be like. But Steve had fooled himself. He’d had a great time, they’d laughed and talked, and Steve had a wonderful time with Tony.

Then, on the way home, Tony had laughed at something and called him _ Hot Stuff, _and Steve had nearly stopped right there on the sidewalk. Of course Tony Stark was going out with him because he was hot in the twenty-first century. They’d nearly come to blows at their first meeting, it was clear Tony wasn’t with him for his sparkling personality. 

Steve knew this, deep down, but it still hurt like a punch to the chest. 

He couldn’t very well turn down a second, third, or even fourth date, though. He was in too far by then. Had pined over Tony for too long to turn his back on him now. And wasn’t that the goal? To have someone want you as much as you wanted them? 

Steve tried to tell himself that this was the case, but then he’d think about how brilliant Tony is, how smart and kind and _ funny_, even when Steve didn’t understand the jokes, and his stomach would sink all over again. He liked _ all _ of Tony, and he hated the idea that Tony was just there for Steve’s new body. 

It was getting harder to detach himself at the end of the night, though. Tony’s eyes were starting to cloud over with worry every time Steve made an excuse to go to his own room alone, his mouth working its way from a disappointed frown to an understanding smile for Steve. 

The problem was, though, that once they’d spent the night together, Tony would have no more reason to spend time with him. Steve was sure of it. He was a wine and dine, one and done kind of guy, everything he said seemed to indicate this; the flirting, the knowing looks, the expensive dinners. Steve just...wasn’t ready for the ride to be over just yet. So, he tucks himself into bed, cold and impersonal, and thinks that if he can just get through one more date, he might just be able to go along with finishing out the night in Tony’s room. 

The next morning, Tony beats him to the communal kitchen. He’s waiting with two mugs, one tea, one coffee, when Steve gets there. 

“Morning, Capsicle,” he says in greeting, sliding the steaming tea mug over to him. 

“Good morning, Tony,” Steve says, smiling at the tea and Tony’s bed head. It made him want to see what Tony looked like _ before _ he made his way all disheveled into the kitchen. “You’re up early,” Steve points out. It was barely eight in the morning, much earlier than Tony usually made his first appearance. 

Tony takes a dramatically long sip of his coffee, then explains. “Yeah, well, I wanted to catch you before you went on your ten mile run, or whatever that adonis bod requires every morning.” 

Steve feels his cheeks heating up. He swallows, and Tony continues.

“I have these tickets to this gallery opening this afternoon, if you wanted to go?” Tony asks. 

Steve wonders if this is a different tactic. Tony never asks him out for an afternoon date. Just dinner or drinks, or a show in the evening, things that would inevitably lead back to one of their rooms at the end. He tries not to beam at him. 

“That sounds great, Tony, you didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“Sure I did, seemed like your kinda thing, and I want to see what you like,” Tony says simply. Steve warms from the inside out. This is… definitely different. 

“Thanks,” he says. “Do I need to wear anything special? I know these things can be kinda fancy?” He doesn’t want to wear the wrong thing, not when he has so many options now. 

“Nope, whatever your heart desires. You’d look good in a garbage bag, Steven,” Tony says. 

Steve gives a smile that’s more like a grimace before returning to his room to get ready. 

The gallery is gorgeous. It focuses on war art that is _ exactly _ Steve’s kind of thing, and he drinks in the attention Tony gives him as he explains the pieces, interpreting them and pointing out small details. He revels in the way Tony looks at him, like he hung the moon, or painted the Mona Lisa. _ God _, he really does love him, that’s the worst part. 

“If you keep this up, people are going to catch on that you’re way too good for me,” Tony teases as they continue their way, hand in hand through the hallway. 

Steve flushes at the compliment. “I don’t think that’s true,” he says. 

“Smart and gorgeous, a national icon, _ and _ an artist? Please,” Tony retorts. He wraps an arm around Steve when they pause in front of a massive painting. “ _ Way _ out of my league,” Tony says into his neck, breath warm on his skin. 

_ Hm _ . This gives Steve pause, but only for a minute, before he gets swept up in the art and the day and _ Tony _. 

When they get back afterwards, Tony doesn’t invite him up, just presses a kiss to his lips and tells Steve how much fun he had. 

“I’ll see you later for dinner though, right?” He asks, like Steve might give him the slip. After a day like this one, Steve would promise him anything. He agrees to dinner. Maybe Tony likes him for more than his looks after all. 

The idea lasts until move night that evening, when Steve joins the team late, wearing a plain white t-shirt and admittedly low-slung sweatpants, and Tony catcalls him. 

“Saved you a seat, hot stuff,” he says, and Steve feels himself flush a deep, splotchy pink he wishes he could erase. 

He sits rigidly next to Tony for the duration of the movie, pretending he can’t feel Tony’s concerned eyes on him as he watches silently, from his own side of the couch. 

Things come to a head the following week, after Tony invites Steve to a Stark Industries gala with him. He has a deep navy tuxedo sent to Steve’s room, complete with a black velvet bow tie and shoes shined to perfection. By the time he’s ready to go, he feels like an extra in a barbershop quartet, but then Tony appears in his doorway and gives a long, slow whistle. 

“You clean up nice,” Tony says, voice low and eyes dark. 

Steve gives a nervous laugh, rubbing at his neck. “You too, Tony,” he says, because Tony looks stunning in all black, his curly hair tamed and gelled down, his tie so perfectly crisp and straight Steve wants to rumple it, just because he can. 

Tony tucks Steve’s hand in his and leads him out the door, the evening awaiting them. 

It goes relatively smoothly, the usual list of board members, too many rich people for Steve to keep straight, food and alcohol and people staring and snapping pictures. It’s exhausting, and he’s glad Tony isn’t here alone, he hates the idea of him facing these vultures on his own. 

As if he can hear Steve’s thoughts, Tony appears at his elbow, asking him for a dance.”C’mon soldier, just one, I won’t let you step on anyone and I won’t get handsy,” Tony promises. 

Steve pauses. “I can’t dance Tony,” he tries, knowing it’s futile. Tony’s a good enough dancer for the two of them and he knows it. 

“I got you, come on,” Tony takes his hand, soft and warm, and leads him to the center of the dance floor. He pulls Steve in close, one hand on his hip, the other clasped safely in his hand, and begins to lead them across the floor, guiding him gently. Steve’s never felt more safe than he does wrapped around Tony, being led like in his arms like this. He feels his eyes drift shut for a minute, before Tony’s voice brings him back to attention. 

“I’m really glad you came,” Tony confesses in his ear. His voice is quiet, serious now. 

“Of course, Tony, I can’t imagine coming to these things alone, I’d never want that for you,” Steve says. 

“Thanks,” Tony says, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder for just a second. “You really do look wonderful, Steve.”

“You do too, Tony,” Steve says honestly, and something about the swell of the music, and Tony’s hand on his back makes his voice catch in his throat, because he never wants to let this go. They’re great together, and the way Tony is looking at him made him dare to think that maybe there was a chance for them to be more than… 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Tony asks, and Steve’s heart pounds, because this is it, isn’t it? The moment that could make them something more or break Steve’s heart.

He squeezes Tony’s hand and decides to take the leap. “I’d love that.”

The ride back to the tower is quiet, charged with something Steve can’t quite put his finger on, but feels a lot like love, should either of them dare to say the words out loud. 

By the time they take the elevator up to the penthouse, Tony’s tie is loose at his neck, and Steve is aching to reach out and take it from him, run a hand through his too-perfect hair, and lead him to the bedroom, even if this is the first and last time. Tony does it for him, though, leading Steve to his room and pulling him on the bed with him, Tony tucking himself in so he’s almost sitting on Steve’s lap. 

“Thought I’d never get you up here, soldier,” he says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s collarbone. 

Steve makes a noncommittal noise, but tenses despite himself.

“What?” Tony asks immediately, eyebrows coming together, worried. 

“Nothing,” Steve says, but his voice slips down on the word and Tony _ knows _. 

“Seriously, you can tell me anything. I know you’ve been… I haven’t wanted to rush you and I still don’t, Steve. Whatever you’re worrying about you can tell me, I promise.”

And god, does Steve feel like an asshole for assuming the worst all this time, but the thing is, he _ still _ isn’t sure. 

“I’m… I don’t… I’m not really your type, I guess? So I was nervous to…” 

Tony barks a laugh. “Not my _ type _ ? Steve, you were my type before I knew what _ type _ meant,” he says. 

Steve winces. “That’s the problem,” he says. 

“The _ problem? _ I don’t think I’m following you,” Tony says, nervous now. 

“I just… when I was younger, no one looked my way. Not even a glance. Bucky set up all these ridiculous double dates, but the girls were always disappointed to see it was me who showed up, rather than Buck, or someone who looked just like him,” Steve says, feels his face warming against his will as he speaks. 

Tony opens his mouth to say something, but Steve stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. If he didn’t get this out now, he never would. 

“So there I was, the tagalong friend going on date after date and no one ever… there was never any interest. And I get it, I was sick a lot, and small, and not _ soldier _ material. But then I got the serum and _ everyone _ wanted Captain America. But I’m not… I’m still _ me _, you know? I’m still the guy buying a bag of popcorn no one wanted to share at the movies.”

“Steve,” Tony breathes now, tightening his hold on Steve’s waist.

“You don’t have to say anything, okay?” Steve says, not meeting Tony’s eyes, wondering if he’d ever be able to meet them again. “I know it shouldn’t matter anymore but…”

Tony gives him a squeeze. “Can I, though? Just one thing?”

Steve huffs a breath. “Of course you can.”

“I heard about you all my life. Howard never let me forget what a great guy you were. How _ worthy _ and _ wonderful _ you were. That’s why he was so set on finding you, that’s why he drove us all crazy with his obsession. He filled my head with the image of this perfect, selfless, _ smart _ guy, and I… I was just a kid who was desperate to meet you. I was as bad as him for a while, I think, because I’m stubborn, you might have noticed that, and I had to find you. _ You _ , Steve. Not Captain America. I mean sure, the two are tangled irrevocably, but that guy my dad was always talking about, who laid down his life, who was a _ hero _ , was _ you _,” Tony tells him. 

“But I… you’re always calling me Captain Handsome and Hot Stuff and…” Steve trails off.

“Well, I mean, you _ are _ gorgeous, that’s no less true. Do I think I would’ve found you just as perfect then as I do now? Of course, but unfortunately I have no way to prove that. The serum made you Captain America, but it didn’t make you who you are,” Tony says this so simply, like it didn’t change life as Steve has come to know it. “There’s so much more to you than a shield and a perfect body,” Tony says. “Please, tell me someone has told you this before right now.” 

Steve is silent, thinking over everything Tony said. 

“God, Steve, you’re…” Tony hunts for the exact right words. “You’re_ you _ , I mean, a master tactician, an artist, a loyal friend, a loving, caring, kind, patient boyfriend. I mean, you’re putting up with _ me _ for god’s sake, that in itself deserves some kind of award,” Tony laughs, but Steve’s eyes are filling up embarrassingly quickly. 

“Tony,” he says wetly, unable to get further than that before burying his face in Tony’s arms. 

“All those people who wouldn’t look at you then, wouldn’t deserve you now. God, I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m selfishly glad you ended up here with me,” Tony tells him, stroking a hand through his hair. 

“Me too,” Steve manages to choke out against him. 

“So, all this time I couldn’t convince you to come up… you thought I just wanted some one night _ fling _?” Tony asks after a minute of silence. Steve sees him try not to look hurt by this and cringes.

“I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought anything else was too good to be true. Back then, I didn’t think you’d even look my way. I didn’t want it to be just a … physical thing, not that I don’t want that too. God, I do,” Steve adds in a rush. “I just couldn’t bear it if I loved all of you and it wasn’t the same for you,” he admits. 

“It’s the same for me,” Tony whispers. 

“Good,” Steve says, leaning in against him, breathing deeply for the first time since all of this started. Tony loved _ him _ , all of him, Steve and Cap and everything in between. He’s never felt more like himself. He twines his arms around Tony, pulling him into his lap for real this time, ready to show his boyfriend just how much he loved every _ single _ piece of him, when he feels Tony still on top of him.

“Did you say _ love _?” He asks.

Steve laughs into the crook of his neck. They both had a lot to learn. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm omg-just-peachy on tumblr!


End file.
